A morning off

Our lives are busy. Judging the "to-do" list against the "done" on that list, the busyness isn't always apparent. But we're tired. Almost always. Some of the tired comes from thinking in two languages. I grow weary from stressing about not being able to speak as well as I want, so that even on a day when I don't speak so much Romanian, I'm tired. And we spend a lot of time with people. While that's great and we enjoy it (and it's what we're here for), eventually we hit the bottom and say, "No mai pot!" (I can't do it anymore!) Our escape has become "vegging out" in front of a movie, which usually gives us some brain rest, but lately Ed and I have realized that our relationship requires more than that. So, we got creative.
Wednesday after the kids left for school we gathered blankets, a tiny camping stove, a tent, coffee, soup, and a loaf of bread, and headed to a quiet spot. We've discovered this little village, Holbov, in the middle of nowhere but only about 45 minutes from our house, that is absolutely beautiful! You drive through this dying village to a road that winds in between hillsides dotted with hay stacks. There is an occasional house on the hilltop. We wonder how they live like that. No electricity. No running water. No roads to their houses. As we were driving home that day, we met two girls walking home from school. They said it was a 1 1/2 hour walk. I asked, "There and back?" She said, "Oh, no. One way."
So,our neighbor owns some land there and said we were welcome to go whenever we want. Not sure whether he meant it or not. Romanians can be like Southern Americans telling you what you want to hear but not really meaning it. But we believed him and went. After hiking up this incredibly steep hill covered with hoar frost (a new word for me…the only other time I've heard of hoar is in the hymn, How Firm a Foundation where it says something about hoary hairs), we set up a tent, laid out a few blankets, and spent the morning walking, talking, reading, relaxing, and enjoying each other's company. For 5 hours the only sounds we heard were muffled cowbells ringing in the distance, the wind blowing through the trees, and only an occasional annoying dog barking. On this perfectly clear day that was unseasonably warm, I told Ed it was the nearest feeling to being at the beach I had known since we've been here. It's on days like this that we say with real pleasure, "I love MTW!"